


For The Love Of Gold

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Legolas, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Five Armies, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: After the battle of the five armies Legolas and some of his wounded warriors are taken to Imladris to heal, where the prince attempts to come to terms with everything that happened, and why. Legolas - Estel friendship. (Teen for mentions of blood, wounds and death)





	For The Love Of Gold

A flare shot high into the air burning a bright blue color, signaling where the Elven healers had set up most of their equipment, and where everyone should send the wounded. In another ten minutes or so it was likely that they would send up another flare.

 

Around him there was a general chaos, as there always was immediately after such a battle. Those left alive were in a mad scramble to find the people they needed to find, and figure out what exactly they should be doing now. As a King, that meant many people were searching for him, and he needed to have an exact plan to give them. 

 

Which is exactly what Thranduil had spent the last hour or so doing, ignoring the voice in his head that kept pointing out he did not know where his son had gone.

 

First, he held a small council with the Eagles, gaining all the knowledge they had from their vantage point in the sky, he then asked for their assistance in transporting the wounded. The eagle he had been speaking with and flown off to ask his own leader for permission, but also assured the King he was nearly positive that they world offer their aid. Next, Thranduil divided the uninjured warriors around him into equal teams to go and search specific parts of the battlefield te eagles had indicated, searching for their kin. Dead or alive; he wanted every single one of his elves accounted for. 

 

Galion had been one of the first to find his King, unsurprisingly, Thranduil often wondered if the elf had put some sort of tracking device on him that he wasn’t aware of. The servant nearly skidded to a stop beside his king, “The last reports of Legolas that I could find put him and many of his archers running into Dale near the end of the battle, supposedly to help protect the human children there.” 

 

“Thank you, Galion. If you could-” 

 

“Run and tell all the captains and warrior that I can find to go towards Dale and spread the word to others. Yes, Sire, it will be done.” With a hand to his heart and a small bow, Galion sped off once more into the crowds around them. 

 

Thranduil also sometimes wondered if Galion had some sort of mind-reading abilities, for as the years wore on, it seemed less and less important that he actually tell Galion what he wanted him to do. 

 

Thankfully, since Legolas was their only prince and captain of the archers, if the elves could not find the King, they would turn to him for answers. Whose first order was generally to send a runner to tell his father exactly where he was, armed with the best guess of the Kings last whereabouts from his archers. Which, generally speaking,was fairly accurate. They were good at keeping track of people, even amongst total chaos. 

 

“Excuse me, Mister ElvenKing, Sir!” 

 

Thranduil turned sharply to towards the voice, surprised to find the Hobbit Bilbo in front of him, wringing his hands nervously. He found himself rather pleased that the dear creature had made it through this, somehow, more or less unscathed. Except perhaps his spirit, for the loss of Thorin and his nephews had likely cut deep sorrow into his little heart.  

 

“Legolas has asked me to tell you that he is near the entrance of Dale, under that particularly lovely tree.” 

 

Legolas, not prince Legolas, not captain Legolas. Just, Legolas. Thranduil was not surprised by this, but found a certain degree of comfort in it, for it was a very unlikely circumstance that his son would allow himself to be addressed formally by any of his titles. He was, and wished to remain, just Legolas.

 

Thranduil wondered idly if the tiny creature even knew the importance of the message he had been asked to deliver, or of the importance of the one who asked him to do it. It mattered little. 

 

Thranduil couldn't help but smile though, remembering how joyful Legolas had been on their first night there when he had discovered he could rouse the tree enough to convince it to tell him stories. Legolas had forsaken his tent completely and had stretched himself at the base of the tree under the stars, resting but not quite sleeping, listening intently to every detail the tree shared. 

 

It did not take long before the King joined the Prince under the tree, sitting with his back resting against the gentle bark, trading comments and laughter with his son throughout the night.

 

“Thank you, Master Baggins.” Thranduil pressed a hand over his heart and dipped his head, smiling further at the startled expression on the hobbits face. He made to turn away but paused, turning back he said, “I am deeply sorry for your loss.” 

 

He did not wait for a reply form the tiny creature, but swept away, sensing that Gandalf was hovering nearby probably waiting for him to leave so he could retrieve his hobbit. He also sensed that the wizard was very pointedly hiding from him, which did not matter to him just yet, he world have time to deal with the wizard later. After he had seen Legolas, and assessed his well being himself. 

 

With his large strides and swift steps it did not take long for him to reach the tree his son had been talking about, searching for the only other blond elven head in his army.  

 

There were groups of elves assembling old house boards into a form of giant litters, with ropes on all sides and a low wall to keep anything from falling out. Nearby, there were many of the eagles perched on buildings or circling slowly in the sky.   

 

“Ada!”

 

Legolas broke out of a nearby crowd, very carefully passing a small human child to one of the healers. Relief flooded the kings body; despite the blood that oozed steadily from a wound on Legolas’ face, and the broken off shaft of arrow stuck out from his shoulder.  

 

But he was standing, he was talking, he was not dead. Thank the Valar he was not dead. 

 

Legolas quickly closed the distance between the two of them, hugging his father as fiercely as he could without injuring himself.

 

“Oh, _ ion-nin _ .” Thranduil hugged his son as tightly as he dared, pressing a kiss to his head, not caring in the slightest who might be watching. No matter how many battles Legolas fought and survived, the worry never lessened.  

 

Quicker than his father might have liked, Legolas pulled away, “The Eagles have agreed to carry some of the wounded to wherever is best, there are too many for our healers to handle on their own here. They offered the stronghold but-” 

 

Knowing where his son was going Thranduil agreed, “Imladris would be better.” 

 

“Our healers are in the process of seeing whose wounded enough to need their care but well enough to survive the journey. So far many of them are my archers and I’m going with them Ada.” 

 

He wanted to argue, with every fiber of his being wanted to argue. But he knew by the tone of Legolas’ voice, and his determined face that he would not win. He had inherited both traits from his mother, Thranduil had known he would not when she his wife looked at him like that, and he knew he would not win with his son if he had the same expression. 

 

“Not bleeding like that you are not.” 

 

Without another word he grabbed a small bag of healing supplies and pulled Legolas to the side, out of everybody's way. First, in inspected the shoulder wound. Sniffing at it to see if he could detect any traces of poison, when he could not he cut away a bit of the fabric to peer better at the flesh around it. Looking to see if it was begging to turn purple or black, as all Elven flesh did when pierced with such darkness. The wound was angry, and looked incredibly painful, but did not appear to be poisoned. 

 

“How long ago did your shoulder become acquainted with its new friend?” 

 

Legolas laughed, the sound standing out like a beacon of light in the middle of the darkness night, “Some time ago. Before the eagles and Beorn arrived.”  

 

Thranduil clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he often did when thinking deeply on something, and Legolas clucked back, smirking. A perfect imitation of his father, one that had been carefully honed over several hundred years. Usually practiced at inopportune times.  

 

The day the imitation game had begun, both the twins and Legolas were being forced to attend an important, but lengthy council, between the three Elven realms. Both Thranduil with a few of his selected advisers , and Celeborn with his, had travelled to Imladris for the meeting. Legolas, after having grown impossibly bored by midday, had begun attempting to copy his father’s cluck. 

 

Thranduil noticed immediately, and shot his son a look in warning, but it didn’t stop. It did not take long for both of the twins to notice as well, and the three young elves struggled to stifle their grins. Glorfindel, who was beginning to grow as bored as Legolas, noticed right after. 

 

Unfortunately, Glorfindel just happened to be sitting across from Thranduil, who found his laughter much harder to suppress as he watched the Balrog Slayer struggle with his own. 

 

Eventually, they had not been able to contain themselves. 

 

Legolas’ small smirk spread into a wide grin when Thranduil cut his eyes briefly away from the wound to look at his face, eyebrow raised, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in what might have been a smile if the King had allowed it to be one.   

 

“Really,  _ Ion-nin _ ?” 

 

Legolas shrugged his good shoulder, his eyes forming wide blue orbs of innocence, while his smile did not lessen in the slightest. 

 

Legolas had always copied his father, from the moments he could walk and talk. He used to wear his father's crowns, striding around their living spaces with as much purpose as an elfling could muster and ordering his imaginary ‘troops’ around. He tried to wear his father's impressive robes, ride his father's horse, and even insisted that his Ada be the one to teach him his first lessons in the bow and the sword. So that he might grow up to be a warrior just like his Ada. 

 

As he got older, he still copied his father. Though often it was unintentional, he had the same commanding tone of voice that could turn blood cold if he so choose, blank expressions that hid everything underneath the surface, expressions and mannerisms that happened without him even knowing it.  

 

But he also copied him intentionally, usually for some sort of comic effect, usually over dramatically, and usually for the soul purpose of making his father smile. Which, it usually did.

Thranduil broke a bit more off the arrows shaft, much closer to his sons skin to keep it from catching on anything, but leaving enough that it world not hinder a healers ability to pull it out later. Reaching into the bag he applied a thick layer of cream to it, meant to keep the wound from getting infected and to stem the bleeding until something more permanent could be done. Next he set to experticity binding it, wrapping it tightly with pads to cushion around the arrow and keep it from moving.  

 

“I know it would feel better to pull it out now, but there is no telling how much it will bleed if we do that. If you insist on going to Imladris-

 

“I do.” 

 

“I think it best we leave it until you arrive.” 

 

Next, he pulled out a needle and thread from the bag, threading it in one go easily. He wiped the blood from his sons face gently, wincing in sympathy when Legolas hissed slightly, and then began to hum a merry tune right before the needled touched his skin. Thranduil stitched the wound closed easily, it was not a perfect job, but it did not need to be. Elrond or his sons would undo it and redo it to their satisfaction anyways, no matter how good of a job he had done. All that was needed of the stitches was to stop the bleeding. 

 

“Legolas!” 

 

The two turned simultaneously towards the new voice, Avaleania, one of his seconds had finally joined their camp.  The other, Farlen, had yet to make his appearance. 

 

She arrived with eleven other elven archers, and a gaggle of human children. Most of them seemed to be relatively uninjured, aside from cuts and scrapes. There were two young one’s that needed help, one carefully cradled by an archer and the other by what appeared to be her sister. Other elves swiftly bore the three of them away, towards help. 

 

Avaleania was, however, the only one that was soaking wet and shivering. She said something to her archers that was too quiet for Thranduil to hear, and they quickly dispersed into the camp to do whatever they had been ordered, before she approached the royals. 

 

Legolas frowned at her, gentle fingers lifting and inspecting an injured arm, careful not to jostle is own injuries, “And what happened to you, in the approximate thirty minutes since I last saw you? These look like teeth marks.” 

 

“That is because they are teeth marks. A warg decided to take me for a swimming lesson as a last-ditch effort, Beorn broke the ice and pulled me out. I always forget how  _ big  _ he is as a bear.” 

 

“I was wondering why it smelt like wet dog.” 

 

“I assumed that was you.” 

 

Thranduil snorted, completely ignoring the betrayed look his son bestowed upon him, and took off his cloak to wrap it securely around the shivering Elleth. Avaleania opened her mouth as if she was going to argue with taking her Kings cloak, but Legolas placed a playful hand over her mouth to silence her. “Do not try, you will not win.” 

 

Thranduil didn’t want to admit it, but it was a very good thing it was one of his elves that had been dragged under the water by the Warg and not a human, or a dwarf, especially not a child. If the water plus the cold environment was enough to make an elf shiver and teeth chatter together, it would be enough to bring death to a mortal. 

 

The sound of a child's cries derailed whatever one of them might have said, as a healer scuttled up clutching a tiny human girl, the one Legolas had been holding when Thranduil had first arrived. The moment she saw Legolas, she reached for him desperately, pulling one of her arms back when it seemed to pull on an unseen injury, eyes already leaking tears. 

 

The healer came to a stop near them, “I am sorry to interrupt my king, but she will not settle and keeps asking for Legolas. We are afraid if she does not settle she will pull all of her stitches out, she will not survive such blood loss a second time.” 

 

Legolas, despite the pain his injuries were causing him pasted a somewhat fake grin on his face and reached immediately for the child, somehow managing to nestle her in a position that did not harm either of them. “Hello, Tymeria, my sweet girl.” 

 

Knowing that his son’s protective and loving heart would never allow him to relinquish his charge until absolutely necessary, Thranduil dismissed the healer with a soft but sincere, “Thank you.” 

 

Understanding, the healer scuttled away as quickly as he approached, back to those who still needed his help. 

 

Legolas looked around them, taking in all the death and destruction, absorbing the sights, smells and sounds of the desperate and the dying. He looked down at the small child cradled so softly in his arms, her tiny face that should have held nothing but joyful innocence twisted with pain and fear, “All of this, for nothing but the love of gold.” 

 

**……………………………………………………………….**

 

The gift of foresight, generally speaking, was not near as specific as everybody seemed to believe it was. You could not pick what you saw, you merely had the opportunity to observe glimpses of what it choose to show you. Sometimes it showed you things that were true, down to every word and every detail. Sometimes, it showed you things that might happen. Sometimes it showed things that already happened. It was often hard to tell which one was which. 

 

Sometimes it didn't even show you images, just filled you with some sort of deep unease you could often not explain. Elrond did not talk about his ‘gift’ often, but Glorfindel had been around long enough to recognize the signs.  

 

Often it gave whoever it graced with its ‘gift’  intense migraines, so bad that Elrond had to turn Estel away for several days at a time. During these times nobody was allowed to enter his room except for Celebrain, Glorfindel, and later the twins. He would not eat anything, no matter what you brought him and the blinds had to be drawn tightly closed at all times. Elves walked with silent feet all throughout his hall, on instinct now. Just in case their Lord needed peace and silence. The strong and clearer the vision, or feelings of those in it, the stronger and more painful the aches. 

 

The night Thranduil and his people have been driven from their first home in Greenwood, the night the Woodland Queen had been killed and the tiny prince just barely talking had gone missing, Elrond had woken in such pain he had gotten sick and passed out when he attempted to stand. He had been bedridden for two weeks, continually assaulted with the heartbreak of those poor Elves. Glorfindel and Celebrain had taken turns watching over him, fearing what else might happen if his pain increased even in the slightest. 

 

The moment the dwarves had departed from Imladris, Elrond had turned to him and mumbled, “We should not have let them leave.” 

 

Sometimes, you just had to wait and see what the bad feeling meant. 

 

Glorfindel knew the moment he heard the horn of Greenwood, that he was about to find out what they all had been dreading all these weeks, “Was that-” 

 

“Greenwood.” Erestor confirmed tensely, “Go find out where they are, I’ll find all the healers and send them to you with whatever you need.” 

 

The Balrog slayer raced from the room, nearly crashing into Elladan who appeared to be on his way to race  _ into _ the room. There was already blood on his hands, though it didn't appear to be his own. 

 

“Glorfindel! The square, you have to come.” The older of the twins did not even wait a moment before turning around and sprinting back the way he had just come from. 

 

Glorfindel raced after him and caught up to him easily, his veins already burning with adrenaline from the panic in Elladan's voice. “What happened?”   

 

“I don't know - I don't know - but the Eagles appeared carrying flats of wood, they just landed and on them are Elves and Dwarves and Humans -” 

 

Guessing exactly where the story was going Glorfindel began jumping railings instead of using the stairs, for once glad that Erestor’s office was in such a central and loud location. Elladan followed his lead instantly, bounding over the railings as well. 

 

The Eagles were often glad to help the other races, but nobody ever asked for their help unless the need was dire. Whatever happened, it wasn’t good. Glorfindel could smell the blood and hear the moans of the wounded while he was still several flights away. The stench was nearly nauseating when he finally did reach the courtyard. 

 

Overhead several Eagles still circled, some having already dropped off their burden, others waiting to lay there's down. Each flat of wood held upwards of ten people, all a mix of races, all of them heavily injured. 

 

It appeared Elrohir had gone to fetch his father, while his brother had gone to fetch Glorfindel. Elrond was already weaving his way through the throng, bellowing orders to all the healers who came running up, and whispering soothing words of comfort to the wounded. His outer robes had already been discarded, leaving him only in leggings and a shirt, both of which were already stained with much blood. 

 

Elladan set to work immediately, scrambling amongst the wounded on the nearest flat, trying to decide which needed help that very moment and which could wait. Every bit the healer his father had trained him to be.  Glorfindel, having only enough healing knowledge and ability to call himself a battlefield medic, set himself to ordering his warriors to gently move around the wounded as the healers needed. 

 

A good half of the wounded were humans, often children who had obviously been caught in a war they did not deserve. Most of the others were elves, all wearing Thranduil's colors, and most halfway to Mandos already. 

 

“Ada, its Legolas!” 

_ Please don’t be dead.  _

 

Glorfindel uttered a prayer and turned to look where Elrohir had called from, expecting the worst but hoping for the best. The sight he saw was somewhere in between the two. 

 

Legolas was upright of his own will, sort of, and carefully carrying a small child of perhaps three in his arms. Blood seeped from a hastily bound wound on his shoulder, drops of blood falling from his elbow. There was also a stitched cut on the side of his face that ran behind his ear and nearly to his neck, though thankfully it no longer bled. His trousers were also soaked but it was impossible to tell if it was from another injury the Prince sported, from the small child, some somebody else entirely.  

 

Both Elrond and Glorfindel raced over to Legolas, Elrond instinctively reaching for the injured child and Glorfindel reaching for the injured Prince.  

 

“This is my good very dear friend Elrond, and he’s going to take very good care of you.” Legolas told the child earnestly but with slurred speech, passing her very, very gently to Elrond’s waiting arms. “Elrond, this is Tymeria”  

 

The moment the child had left his arms Glorfindel gently seized them, worried for the way Legolas swayed slightly on his feet. Glorfindel helped him step over the barrier that had been made on the edges to keep the wounded from falling off during flight. 

 

Elrond swept away with the child, cooing to her in an attempt to stop the tears and moans of pain.

 

“Legolas, what happened?” Elrohir demanded, already attempting to peak at the wound in his shoulder. 

 

Legolas hissed in pain and jerked his shoulder away from Elrohir with a slightly dark look, “I met a Dragon, and I can honestly say I did not care for the experience.”  

 

Glorfindel could hear Elrond's words echo in his head,  _ We should not have let them go.  _ __

 

“A dragon?” Elrohir nearly squeaked, eyes roaming over the wounded again with new concern. 

 

“Turns out the Dragon was the least of our problems.” The Prince cried out in pain and then ground his teeth when the Balrog slayer attempted to get a better hold of him by slipping an arm around his midsection.

 

Elrohir made to undo his friend's armor and inspect the wound but Legolas bloodied hand over his stilled his movement, “I wouldn't do that if I were you, I would put a healthy wager that my armor is the only thing that has kept me from bleeding out yet.”  

 

Elrohir nodded softly, “Then we leave it for now. Until we can treat you properly in the healing wing.”

 

Glorfindel almost did not want to know what happened, a dragon should never,  _ ever,  _ be the least of one’s problems. Such scenarios lead to being pulled into the hall of Mandos by your hair, a Balrog holding securely onto you the entire way. 

 

The Prince matched his friends solemn nod, throwing and arm around Glorfindel's shoulders to help keep himself upright, “Smaug burnt Laketown to cinders, and as soon as the Dragon was felled every Goblin and Orc within hundreds of miles arrived to try and get a share of its gold. We happened to be between the two. We had only come to help the people of Laketown, we did not bring an army for such a battle.” 

 

Elrohir let out a string of Elvish curses and a few human ones as well, the likes of which usually would have earned him a slap upside the head by both Glorfindel and his father, had Glorfindel not agreed with every word he said in this particular moment.   

 

“There were so many wounded… our healers so overwhelmed. Ada did not think you would mind if some of them were flown here to be cared for.” 

 

“And we don't mind.” Glorfindel assured, looking around again as slowly all the wounded were lifted off the flats and whisked away to the healing ward if it was safe to move them, and attended to on clean sheets that had been placed on the ground near them if it was not safe to be moved. 

 

“Legolas, that arrow in your shoulder, is it poisoned?” 

 

The Prince laughed, a laugh that sounded more than a little unhinged, potentially due to blood loss, or to exhaustion, or perhaps both. “I hope not. It’s been in there for quite awhile now.” Elrohir gave him a look of complete horror, so the Prince continued to try and ease his friends mind, “Ada did not think it was; thought it best we leave it in until I got here.”  

 

_ We should not have let them leave.  _

 

“Thranduil saw you like this? And was fine with you leaving his sight and flying here?” 

 

Legolas gave the same unhinged laugh, as Elrohir gave his friend one last reassuring squeeze on the arm and departed to attend to others who needed his help, trusting him in the Balrog Slayers care. “Who do you think banaged my shoulder, and stitched my face, Glorfindel? There are many things in this world that Ada is not ‘fine’ with, it does not mean they do not happen. These are my people, my archers, I am responsible for them and I will not leave them in the name of my own comfort” 

 

The older elf pressed a kiss to the youngers head as gratitude overwhelmed him, grateful that Legolas had not left the world. Grateful that his father hadn't either, grateful that they would not know a world without the other. Grateful for the Eagles, for the healers trying their best all around them, grateful that even in moment such as this Legolas still had his light.dangerous.

 

“Ever your father's son, so stubborn.” 

 

“You must admit, as annoying as it can be, the quality has proven incredibly valuable.” Legolas grinned at the Balrog slayer, and then gave a hacking cough, spitting blood onto the earth in front of him. 

 

A broken rib had pierced something, was the Balrog slayers best guess.

 

Internal bleeding. 

 

As the chaos around him died down, Glorfindel decided that now was a good time to bring the Prince to the healing ward, now that those in dire need had already long been whisked away. “This might hurt,  _ teeth las _ .”  

 

After that warning, Glorfindel gently scooped the frail being into his arms and set out in a jog for the healing ward, careful to keep the younger elf in his arms perfectly still to keep from jostling any injuries. Legolas lay an exhausted head against his shoulder, eye drifting closed, an arm falling limply towards the ground, blood still dripping steidley form his wounded shoulder.  

 

“Legolas?” A small, terrified voice called from behind a pillar as Glorfindel swiftly went by. The Balrog slayer turned in slight panic, eyes wide, hoping it was not Estel, but knowing that it was. 

 

The tiny human peaked out from where he had been hiding, likely watching everything that had been happening in the square below. Eyes already leaking tears, but now his lip was trembling stubbornly in an attempt to keep from crying harder. 

 

_ Ai, Elbereth _

 

Glorfindel looked about him in panic, he needed to bring Legolas to the healing ward but did not want to leave Estel alone in the corridor again. Especially after what he had just seen. He spotted an elf nearby, scuttling swiftly through the halls in one purpose or another, “Lindir!” He called, “Take Estel to his rooms, please, ensure he stays there.” 

 

The other elf nodded swiftly, running towards the boy and scooping him up, ending his attempts to keep following Glorfindel to the healing ward.  

 

“Legolas!” 

 

The child's anguished cries echoed after the Balrog Slayer as he swiftly climbed the next set of stairs, heart silently breaking for the poor child. 

  
  


**……………………………………**

 

Somebody was going to come talk to him, somebody always came to talk to him if they knew he was upset. Even on days when he  _ thought  _ he had been secretive enough to keep it hidden from his family, his Ada world arrive at his room when he was alone, some sort of delicious drink for the both of them to enjoy while they talked about whatever bothered him. 

 

It was not always his Ada, often times his brothers would come and talk to him too, especially if Ada was particularly busy. Sometimes, Glorfindel would come. He just had to wait, be patient, and somebody world come and finds him. 

 

Lindir had brought him back to his room as ordered, no matter how hard Estel had struggled he had been no match for the elf, he was not a match for any elf at such a small size. Linder had assured him that Legolas world be okay, Ada and his brothers world take really good care of him. He wanted to believe his friend, for as far as he knew, Lindir had never lied to him before. 

 

But he knew his Ada had said that to other people, and their friends were not always okay. Legolas did not look like he was going to be okay 

 

Lindir still sat with him, sitting on one of the chairs and plucking his instrument and singing the songs he knew Estel liked best, like he did when the child was sick. This sadness felt like a sort of sickness, but the songs did not have the same comfort.  

 

It felt like he had been waiting for hours and hours, curled up in his bed trying not to cry. Supper had come and gone, two plates had been delivered to his room for him and Lindir. Estel had neglected his, and so Lindir had done the same, when the child asked why, for he was the one that was upset and not Linder, the elf had breezily replied, “One cannot sing and chew at the same time.” 

 

Finally, someone knocked on his door. 

 

Estel managed to clamber out of his bed and make his way halfway across the room before the door had even opened all the way. Expecting such a reaction, Elrohir easily grabbed his little brother and hauled the child into his arms, incase there was going to be an escape attempt. 

 

Lindir decided this was his cue to leave, after Elladan nodded to him in a silent confirmation that Legolas was indeed alright. The bard's fingers picked at the chords seamlessly as he wandered from the room, Elladan closed the door behind him but his music still echoed behind him from the hall. 

 

“What happened? Is Legolas okay? Did Ada fix him?” Estel demanded, scrambling closer to his brothers face as if he might get answers faster that way. 

 

“Yes, little one, Legolas is okay. He is resting now.” 

 

“Lets go see him!” Estel attempted to pitch all of his weight forward, hoping it might throw his brother off enough to lose his balance, perhaps let go of him. It had successfully worked a few times, if he timed it right, but so far everytime they did let got of him their reflexes had been fast enough to easily catch him before he hit the ground. Which was slightly frustrating.

 

However, Elrohir seemed to also be expecting this reaction, for he easily swung the small human around and tucked him under his arm. Upside down and backwards. Estel grinned at his other brother through the small strands of hair that now obstructed his view. “We can't, we must talk about some things first.” 

 

“Oh.” The small child seemed to nearly deflate at these words, and Elrohir allowed him to slither somewhat from his grasp until he hung from the left arm by his knees, not unlike a tree branch “You want to talk about things.” 

 

The child deflated further, and his brother lowered him closer to the floor until he slipped off his arm and onto his rug, limbs in all directions in an excellent impression of a starfish, “I was hoping we would not have to do that.” 

 

The twins shared a smirk, knowing exactly how their little brother felt. Even to that very day, they had to fight the instinct to dart out the nearest window when they heard similar words from a few select elves, like Elrond, or Galadriel.  

 

They had learned at an early age, true fear was when the Lady of Light fixed you with one of her  _ looks  _ and told you that she had to talk to you. 

 

“Well,” Elladan scooped Estel up from the floor and tossed him lightly into the air, catching him easily, “Unfortunately we must.” 

 

Estel sighed, resigned to his fate, “Okay,  _ then  _ can we got and see Legolas? Please?” 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

“Only time can tell.” 

 

Estel wanted to argue, but he had already learned that arguing usually got him  _ less  _ of what he wanted. He had tried to argue about what time he had to stop playing and come inside with his father a few weeks ago, at first he was supposed to come inside when Glorfindel returned from his patrol. He tried to convince his father the true injustice of this, because it was such a nice day, but then his father told him he must come inside at the seven o’clock bell. 

 

He had tried once more to plead his case, but then he had to come inside that moment and read quietly in his father's study until bedtime. He wasn’t even allowed to go and see Glorfindel at the gate like he usually did.    

 

Elladan sat in the chair by Estel’s bed, and plopped the child onto his lap. Elrohir gently moved the stuffed horse from its designated spot on the pillow its owner did not use, and sat cross-legged on the bed by his twin. Firefly, the horse, nestled in his lap. 

 

“What's the rule?” Elladan asked. 

 

Estel sighed, looking down at his hands. “When I hear the horn I am to go to my room, and stay there until you, or Ada, or Glorfindel or Erestor comes to get me.” 

 

“Why is that?” 

 

He sighed again, “Because sometimes there are bad things happening,” His voice dropped and he began picking at Elladan shirt sleeve, “And I don't want to be around bad things, I might get hurt or be in somebody's way. And if I’m in my room, you will know where to find me if it  _ is  _ something bad.” 

 

“If you knew the rule, and you knew why it's a rule, why did you not listen to it?” 

 

Estel sniffed dejectedly, knowing by his brothers tone that he was in trouble. “I saw the Eagles flying. I wanted to come see them, Erestor has been telling me so many stories about them. I just wanted to come and see… I didn’t think it would be bad.” 

 

Elrohir leaned forward and clasped his hands over the boys tiny, fidgeting ones, “Did you see, Estel? The Eagles and the people in the square?” 

 

“No.” A watery voiced mumbled, not noticing his brothers nearly faint with relief. “I got scared after I heard the horn, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there so I hid. I thought everyone was gone, I was going to run to my room, I didn’t know Glorfindel was still there.” 

 

“Do you promise us?”

 

Estel looked at Elrohir, eyes nearly impossibly wide, not understanding why this was such a big deal or why his brothers did not believe him. “Yes, I promise.” 

 

Elladan, sensing the approaching meltdown, hugged Estel to his chest in an attempt to stop it. The tiny arms circled around his neck and he felt a combination of tears and snot rub into his neck, where the child had buried his face. He gave his twin a slightly disgusted look at the sensation, causing Elrohir to cackle silently. 

 

The younger twin quickly took pity on the other, pulling a cloth from his pocket and handing it to him. Elladan managed to pull Estel off his neck, he swiftly wiped the liquids away and then placed the cloth of the child's nose. “Blow.”  

 

The child’s face turned a bit red with the effort he put into it, but Elladan didn't seemed satisfied. He shifted the cloth so another clean spot was over his nose, “Again.” Estel did as instructed until the elf seemed confident enough most of the liquid had been spewed out. 

 

He balled up the cloth and threw it at Elrohir’s face, who managed to bat it away with the palm of his hand before it landed on him, where it fell to the floor. 

 

Estel returned to picking at Elladan’s shirt sleeve, “Am I in trouble?” 

 

“Yes, but Ada will come and talk to you about it tomorrow.” 

 

Estel sighed dramatically again, throwing his head back off the arm of the chair his back was rested against, Elladan grabbed hin ankle just in case he should fall, “ _ More  _ talking?”

 

“Might as well get used to it, little one, it's going to be happening for the rest of your life.” 

 

He let out the longest, loudest, drawn out groan that little lungs could muster. Then he snapped back up, eyes bright once more and a hopeful grin on his face, “Now can we go and see Legolas?” 

 

Elrohir sighed, “I do not think-” 

 

“Yes, you can come and see Legolas. I think that world be a wonderful idea.”

 

Three sets of surprised eyes turned to look at the doorway, where Glorfindel now stood, leaning against the frame as if he had been there for the entire conversation. Which, perhaps he had. He had changed out of the clothes he had been wearing earlier, the rest of him looked just as fresh as the clothes, as if the horrors of earlier that day had never happened. 

 

The twins, on the other hand, felt as though they had been trampled by an entire herd of horses, their brother climbing all over them did little to help. It was one of the many irritating things about Glorfindel, he never seemed to tire. 

 

“But” Glorfindel continued, holding up a finger before Estel could jump or shout with joy, the child paused expectantly, “Legolas is very sad, he is very tired, and he is very sick.”

 

Elladan and Elrohir seemed unconvinced but would not argue with the decision.

 

“I will be very quiet, I promise.” Estel whispered, trying to prove his point. 

 

Glorfindel nodded his head in the direction of the healing ward and held out his hand, “Let’s go, then”

Estel raced for the door with Firefly in hand, eagerly grasping the elfs hand with the other, but managed to compose himself when they entered the hallway. Glorfindel's voice trickled back to the twins who remained in the room, “And pick up that tissue.” 

 

**……………………………………………………**

 

“Legolas?” 

 

Elrond did not often make a habit of probing other peoples silences, for he himself was a very much a fan of them, but it had been several hours since anybody could get Legolas to say anything. Elrond had hoped telling him all his other warriors were on the mend and would survive the night might get some sort of response.   

 

There were still two new elves in the halls of Mandos, and one tiny human girl gone from the world. 

 

“Mhmm?” 

 

The Lord came farther into the room, noting the untouched food and water on the table where someone had left it earlier. He had been wanting to come and see the prince since he first saw him in the square. But there were others that needed him, and he knew he was in Glorfindel's safe hands.  Now, finally, he had the time. 

 

“Did you hear me, Greenleaf?” 

 

He was still sitting in the windowsill he had apparently been refusing to leave, according to several frustrated healers. However Elrond was just glad that Legolas had stayed in his room at all, despite being continually bothered, and not gone into the trees. For if he did, surely they none would find him until he choose to be found, and the tree’s would not even give his secrets away to their lord. 

 

“Yes, I heard you.” 

 

A somewhat chill breeze breathed through the open window, the kind that could send a shiver down a mans back. The healer thought about protesting, Legolas’ body had been through enough that day, it should not be subjected to such drafts if it did not have to be. He had tried such things before, but was always told ‘Its easier to hear the trees with the window open.” 

 

From his observations, even Thranduil had given up trying to keep him off windowsills and from nearly hanging out of open windows, like a true woodland elf he always longed to be outside. Regardless if he was technically a Sindar by blood. 

 

He would not win in a fight about the window, and he was not prepared to try, getting him to drink water, on the other hand, was a fight he was very much ready for.  

 

Elrond picked up the glass and approached the young prince, silently handing it to him. Legolas finally turned his attention the the elven lord, and eyed the glass with slight contempt, but took it reluctantly into his hand. He took a few swallows of it even more reluctantly, eyeing Elrond to see if he was satisfied with the amount, which he was not. The older elf put a finger on the base of the glass and tilted it farther up to force the prince to take a few more swallows. 

 

When the glass was half way empty, he removed his finger, and took the cup back to set it back on the table next to the untouched food. That would be a fight for later, one perhaps he would make Glorfindel fight for him. 

 

It was not often that Elrond wished the ElvenKing to be in Rivendell, for the two of them got along better the more distance was between them. Celebrain had always maintained that it was only because the two of them were too alike in certain aspects, but Elrond refused to believe this, and everybody else in the valley had refused to participate in the argument. Now, though, he wanted nothing more than to find out Thranduil had made a surprise appearance in his valley.  

 

The ElvenKing would know what to do with his son, how to talk to him and get him through this. Elrond, for all of his experience had absolutely no clue. It was like talking to Thranduil after the battle of the last alliance, wishing that Orpher hadn’t fallen because he world know how to help his son. What was with that bloodline, only able to be helped and understood by their fathers? 

 

Celebrain would have known what to do with the prince, she had always had a special bond with him. Determined to be a long distance mother to him, after the loss of his own, which surprisingly Thranduil seemed to encourage. The ElvenKing always liked the lady of the valley better than the lord. Many,many summers and Yule’s Legolas had spent in the valley, and many letters had been written between the two when he could not visit. But Celebrain was gone, and Thranduil was not here. 

 

Even Elladan and Elrohir had been unable to get Legolas to open up to them, and it was not from lack of effort. They had sat with him while he rocked and sang little Tymeria into her final sleep, her tiny body unable to recover from the blood loss or overcome the poison. When his song had ended, so did his speech, for many hours. His body remained in Imladris, but his soul and mind had wandered far away. 

 

Legolas scoffed, more to himself than to Elrond, “All for gold. For the selfish, hateful, love of a mineral.” 

 

Elrond had heard bits and pieces of what had happened from the other warriors, that Thranduil moved his army away from their tree’s for the first time in a millennia to help the people of Laketown, that Legolas and some of his archers had already long since gone to the human village. That they had been there when Smaug burnt it down. That until Beorn and the Eagles arrived, most of them were convinced of their deaths. That Thorin and his nephews had fallen, and the ElvenKing and his son had come close to the same fate.    

 

He had been very pleased to hear that clever little Bilbo had made it through everything. 

 

“Hello, Legolas.” A tiny voice greeted, very, very quietly. 

 

Elrond turned, surprised he had not heard his youngest son approach, but ready to scold him nonetheless. He was not supposed to be in the healing ward without an invitation, or without being accompanied by one of the family members. No excuses. 

 

Estel sat perched on top of Glorfindel's shoulders, Firefly clutched in one hand and a book in the other. The child wore his ‘serious face,’ the face he wore when he was supposed to be on his best behaviour or right after he had gotten himself into trouble. Elrond assumed it was the first rather than the latter given his tiny shy greeting in the place of his usual excitement. 

 

Especially where Legolas was concerned. 

 

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about the Elven Prince, but Estel had been absolutely taken with him upon their first meeting, begging to go everywhere he and his brother did. The three of them usually complied with the child’s wishes, Elladan and Elrohir definitely lacked the ability to tell him ‘no’. Elrond, generally speaking, did not have a problem with it. He was confident that all three of the would have to perish before they world let anything bad happen to the child.  

 

The twins would go to the ends of the earth to make their little brother happy, which had been a pleasant surprise. Elrond had not been certain how well his twin sons world react when he had taken Estel in, especially since they had not been home when it happened, however Glorfindel had not been worried in the slightest. The Balrog slayer was often correct about such things.  

 

It was for this reason Elrond choose not to question his friend's decision to allow the child into the room, even though they had decided against it earlier.  

Legolas smiled, it was small, but it was a real one. The first one since Glorfindel had carried his exhausted and hurting body into the healing ward, “Hello Estel.” 

 

Glorfindel carefully untangled Estel for his long blond hair, the child must have been playing with it on his ride up, and set him on the floor. Not letting go of his arms until he was certain the child was solid on his feet. 

 

Estel made to enter the room, but stopped before his foot touched the ground. He looked up at Elrond, eyes worried, “Can I come in Ada?” 

 

“Yes, you may come in. Thank you for asking.” 

 

The child made his merry way over to his friend, stopping once his stomach was pressed against the stone just below the windowsill, “Are the tree’s talking to you?” 

 

Legolas smiled down at the little boy, “Yes. They are telling me that you are getting very good at climbing, and that soon your favorite apples will be ready to eat.”  

 

Estel frowned in thought, “Are they upset that I climb them? Should I stop?” 

 

“No little one, they enjoy the company. They say nobody comes to play with them anymore, and they like your laugh.” 

 

A tiny head gave an important nod, “Good. I like to play with them too.” 

 

He looked behind him, at Glorfindel who still stood in the doorway like he did when asking silently for permission to do something, the elf nodded his head in encouragement. “Ada says I am not to sit on windows, that it is too dangerous. Will you come and sit on the bed with me?”  

 

Elrond nearly held is breath, seeing if perhaps the child was about to accomplish what a fleet of trained healers had not been able to. Another breeze came through the window and Estel shivered, Legolas notice d this and swiftly closed the window. “Yes, of course.” 

 

Like the twins, Legolas seemed to have and inability to say no to the child. 

 

The prince very slowly and very carefully extracted himself from his perch, careful not to pull any stitches or jostel any wounds. Once he was standing he stretched equally as carefully, he had been in the same position for several hours now. 

 

Estel hopped onto the bed and scootched across it until he was taking up the least amount of room as possible. Legolas climbed onto the bed after him, wincing slightly at the pain in his side until he was comfortably positioned. Estel handed him the stuffed horse, “Would you like to hear a story? Its my favorite one, and Ada always reads it to me when I’m sad or sick.” 

 

Glorfindel cleared his throat and waited until Elrond turned to look at him and then indicated with his head that he ought to leave the room. The Lord of the valley stood, and excused himself from the room with the excuse he had to check on other patients. 

Estel ‘read’ the book to his friend, reciting the story he knew from his heart the way his Ada and brothers always told it to him. Legolas listened quietly, correcting some of the child's pronunciation, but otherwise enjoyed the story in silence. 

 

When the story was over Estel pressed tiny hands against Legolas’ face, “Are you sad?” 

 

Legolas contemplated lying to the child, but didn’t see the point. Estel world not judge him, and nobody else was here to hear him talk, “Yes. I am very sad.” 

 

He nodded thoughtfully, his tiny face is scrunched up tight, “Is it the kind of sad that somebody can’t make better?” 

 

Again, Legolas thought about lying to the child, “Yes, Estel, it is the kind of sad that nobody can fix.” 

 

“Could your Ada fix it? Ada’s can fix everything.” 

 

The prince shook his head softly, smiling as the human child plopped himself into a lying position next to him on the bed, both turned onto their sides to they could look at one another, “No. Even Ada could not fix this.” 

 

“Mhm.” The child seemed to think about this for a moment, “That’s okay. When I first got here I was sad too, and Ada couldn't make me feel better. But I had Firefly, and that helped.” 

 

The night had grown late, far past the child's bedtime, the two had taken turns telling stories. While he was still sad, Legolas did feel better. It had helped remind him that his people had not died for the love of gold, they had fought and died to try and protect sweet creatures such as Estel from a fate they would not be able to defend themselves from. The losses of his people were small, compared to what would have happened if they had not been there. All of the people of laketown, and all the dwarves world have been slaughtered.

 

Evil world have had another fortress to grow and multiply. 

 

“Here. I’m not sad anymore, you can have him.” Estle yawned, pressing the stuffed horse to his friends chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I really hope you enjoyed it, and I would love to hear from you!


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